Scorched Earth
by DearSweetPapercut
Summary: "It's strange how easy it is to lose sight of yourself- of who you truly are amongst the battles faced every day." - A character study of sorts.


This is inspired by a story I came across on the web- I hope you enjoy reading this- please review!

Sara/Hank but not really

Set mid Season 3

Disclaimer: I own zilch.

**Scorched Earth **

It's strange how easy it is to lose sight of yourself- of who you truly are amongst the battles faced every day. From the moment of waking to the time you fall asleep everything seems to occupy your mind apart from that sense of self. As Sara caught her reflection in the mirror on the inside of her locker door she realised that perhaps she no longer knew who she was. She barely recognised the reflection in front of her. Everything had seemed to change.

She didn't look different- not really- but the way she felt wasn't the same. The self assurance she had once had seemed to have evaporated into the thick, hot air of the dessert lost in a different place. The comfort she had once felt with her own skin was not still in place. Sara found herself looking in the mirror every morning wondering what it was she'd lost. What it was that life had taken away?

Perhaps it was age. Maybe it had taken this long for her to realise that she didn't have forever ahead of her that life was going by as she simply just took a breath, blinked an eye. She was already in her early thirties. And if Sara was honest with herself she didn't know how that had happened. The years had just moved past her like the breeze, after university everything had been so steady, so in place and she wondered what it would have been like to get caught in a hurricane.

As she stepped into the pale morning light she wondered if she should have taken a few too many chances in life. Perhaps she could have been something different. She still had time- she still could become different but where else was there to go from here. This wasn't rock bottom of that she was sure. She had seen those murky depths before and it seemed to be the only road she could take if she let go of her life as it was to that day.

She was no one in this city. And maybe that was for the best. Sara thought to herself as she climbed into her car making her way to an empty apartment. She envied writers and artists who would find tales to tell in the loneliness. The darkness was their friend- the emptiness was their company. Three am brought more to those stuck with a pen in their hands than anyone else. She was not one of those people.

Three am brought nothing but memories to Sara. All of those things she had kept tucked away in the box beneath her bed. The tiny items she had collected through childhood and foster care placed somewhere she would never have to look at them. She recall almost all of those nights tucking herself in, thinking of stories she had read hoping to sleep. Sara realised she had spent far too many years thinking that she didn't need anyone else.

She didn't have anyone now. As she stood at the door casting her eyes over her apartment with nothing but the burr of the boiler to welcome her back it struck her this was the life she had grown up imagining. A place of her own, a job she loved and nothing else. Why did it not seem like enough?

Disappointment was something she had learnt to live with- it had become a constant companion. Nothing ever seemed like enough. It never would. Fantasies were to remain just that; the things in your head don't translate to real life. She had been told that more times than she could count. But it had taken all of these years to realise that was actually the case.

Could Sara honestly look at the way things had turned out? Could she convince herself that everything was the way she had imagined it to be?

She could almost see the irony in her story. She had moved to Sin City for love only to find that it wasn't real. She had given herself to Gil Grissom in every way she knew how but it wasn't enough. She had given him her body when she thought nothing else would do but still it didn't seem to matter. He had forgotten their nights together as if they meant nothing and distanced himself from her.

It felt as if the end that was all she ever ended up; nothing. Just a ghost that lingered in places she was no longer wanted.

The door bell rang resounding through the space as she pulled her unwilling body from the sofa knowing who would be on the other side. Hank stood on the other side of the door with a smile waiting for her to invite him in. Sara knew what he was there for but she realised that she didn't have the strength to resist or fight him for his general disregard for her so without a word she led him to her bedroom.

It wasn't like before- it wasn't that she couldn't say no out of fear of violence. She wasn't a child anymore if she wanted she could have stopped him. But she never did. Turning him away for some reason never seemed like an option to Sara. One of her therapists had told her it was conditioning and that until she took control of her sex life it would remain that way; she would still be the girl stuck in a filthy bedroom simply following 'the rules'.

It wasn't like that- Sara would convince herself every time he was there. It hadn't been like that in a long time. She hated thinking of those things before their encounters everything would shift to a darker mood. This was different to back then of that, she would convince herself of that.

And in the end it was just sex.

It wouldn't kill her- or at least that was what she would remind herself as she took off her clothes for him. Goose bumps appearing across the plains of her back as her skin met the cool air, her body shivering slightly as he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her towards the bed with a gleam in his eye. It was look she had taught herself to get used to. Over the years she had seen it often enough the eyes of the men that surrounded her. In the ones who she had slept with and even in the ones she hadn't slept with.

That look said a lot. It was hollow; it looked past her as a human being and seemed to turn her into an object, something they desired. She would notice them undressing her with their eyes. It was a cliché but it was true- they would attempt to imagine what was beneath her clothing their eyes studying the curves of her body as she tried to just go about her everyday life. The braver ones would try to ask her out, the stupid ones would put their hands on her and most of them wouldn't do a thing.

But the thing that always seemed to catch her off guard was that they all imagined that she'd give herself to them if they had the chance.

Hank was just like the rest of them but this one she took to her bed. It seemed like a good idea at the time- she had been alone for so long that she had convinced herself the company wasn't a bad idea. And he had been sweet until that point. Sara had convinced herself that perhaps he wasn't like the rest of them and that he enjoyed her company. But the first time she had slept with him it became very clear that he had just been hanging around with the hope that she'd be a good lay.

Now he only called or came over when he wanted to have sex.

He groaned in her ear, his hands inching up her body towards her breasts as his lips made their mark on her collar bone. It was time to react because silence would surely not be enough in those moments. She muttered his name out loud over and over as if to remind herself of who she was with because if she was honest each lover was the same. She couldn't say she hated these moments but there was no part of her that truly enjoyed them. Her childhood memories had seemed to foreshadow every encounter.

Sara knew it was not worth thinking that maybe one day her life would have been like the movies but she realised that she had never felt cherished or treasured. She was never _that_ woman. And it occurred to her that maybe she would never be. It wasn't her place to be loved and wanted- fate had proved that time and time again.

So with her eye closed she straddled him shutting her mind off to all the time she was wasting with him here. Hank flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head, his nails digging into her skin not that she would have pointed that out. With her best attempt at a smirk she met his eye as if taking pleasure in the way he had forced her knees apart and pushed into her as if conquering an empire. It was easier to bow at his whim she had learnt this far too quickly.

He imposed his body on her towering over her with every quick thrust, his shadow forcing an odd sense of darkness to wash over her as the light above them seemed to flicker in her vision. Sara closed her eyes, arching her body into him as he took what she had decided to call her dignity. He had little regard for her otherwise and a bad performance would only result in him avoiding her. She sighed knowing that to his ears it would be a sound, a sign, of approval while all she wanted was for him to finish with her body.

If Sara was honest with herself she knew what he was holding back for and that it would never come- it was never real. Straining her body against his thrusts, she quivered, rolling her head back against the pillows, her legs trembling as she forced her toes to curl. It was convincing enough. It always had been. She could hear him let out some obscenity, as he finished, the sensation leaving her fighting with every one of her senses.

Hank laid down beside her his breathing coming in short pants as his body recovered from its high while she simply just stared at the ceiling her ragged breathes just thankful for the end. If she was honest she hated when he touched her but for some reason to simply not feel alone she let him. What was even stranger was that once he left she realised she felt emptier than before.

"Who's that?" His voice broke the silence that had remained in the air since he had first arrived.

Sara frowned slightly following his gaze to the photo she kept above her dresser her blood running cold as she realised what he was saying. Without a word Sara pulled herself to her feet, wrapping her robe firmly around her body.

"It's me" Her voice was small- barely being thrown out to the room. "You can leave" He didn't want to stay anyway. He had gotten what he had come for and everything else was pointless afterwards, it didn't mean anything to him. Hank dragged himself to his feet not bothering to say a word as he dressed himself.

It was a photo of her when she'd first moved to Vegas, it was a photo she had placed there to remind herself of who she was. Her eyes rested on the image, the echo of him slamming the door on his way out once again plunging her into the soundlessness of being alone.

Sara became conscious of the fact that she didn't know who that was anymore.

**The End **


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